Saturday, 30 April 2016

Day 8 POEM: Love Letter

Love Letter
Janel J. Tutak, March 27, 2005

a simple letter,
filled with words
of love and passion
the phrases,
symbols of endearment
spill onto the pages.
it is impossible to put down,
hard to resist the happiness.
page after page
is romance at it’s best.
delicious emotions create a kiss
for the eyes of the reader.


Something simple today. I've been feeling very in love lately. I mean, of course, I always love my husband. I'm talking of love of everything. My kids. My family. My life. The weather. My house. I am very thankful. I came across this poem and it just spoke to me. No real deep explanation today. Although, I do remember at this time, I was enjoying the idea of the title of a poem being the subject matter without coming out and saying it in the actual poem. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

P.S. Don't forget, even though today is the last day of April, National Poetry Month, I had a late start, so you will still get 22 more posts for this 30 Days of Poetry pledge! 

Friday, 29 April 2016

Day 7 POEM: Let Go

Let Go
Janel J. Tutak, April 25 2016

All the hurt I feel inside
Doesn't stop with tears I've cried
This I know because I've tried
But I just can't let it go

Anger builds inside of me
From the actions that I see
Hurtful words will always be
The thing I can't let go

And yet again, still I try
To make the peace, days go by
I find myself asking why
Can't I just let go

Nothing's right that I do
It's exhausting trying to
Find a way to please you
I wish I could let go

The choices that others make
The promises they choose to break
But the path is theirs to take
So I guess I must let go

I've made my choice, you know what?
This is a tie that I must cut
It may be hard to do but
I've got to let you go
There is a quote that says "If I cut you out you probably handed me the scissors". And quite honestly it is true. As someone who has done some cutting out of people in her life, I can tell you, there is always a good reason. People are generally speaking who they are and that isn't really going to change.  People can grow yes, evolve even, but deep down their personality, their morals, their values will always be the same. Selfish people will always think of themselves first. Dramatic people will always create drama and play the victim. And good people will always be good. But just because you always take the high road, does not mean you deserve to be trampled on, taken advantage of, or put through the ringer because someone else can't see it, appreciate it or understand what is going on. You can lead a camel to water but you can't make them drink. The choice is theirs. The choice to try to fix problems is a choice. And you don't have to choose to let someone treat you badly because they can't choose to stop behaving the way they do. You deserve better.

Thursday, 28 April 2016

Day 6 POEM: I'm Gonna Try

I'm Gonna Try
Janel J. Tutak, February 2, 2005

I woke up this morning,
Nothing too exciting
Nothing much is going on today
Except I’m gonna live.

It’s like my head is spinning
Spinning round and round
My feet are running ahead of me
And I can’t see the ground
Nothing can go my way
But I’m gonna try today

I’m getting ready to go,
Nothing seems to fit
Nothing looks right on me today
Except my ready smile.

I’m rushing out the door
And tripping on the floor
But I’m not going cry
I’m gonna try

It’s like my head is spinning
Spinning round and round
My feet are running ahead of me
And I can’t see the ground
Nothing can go my way
But I’m gonna try today

I feel all my problems,
Fighting to bug me
Fighting to ruin my life today
Except I won’t let them.

Although my head is spinning
Spinning spinning spinning
Spinning round and round
And my feet are running ahead of me
I can’t, no I can’t
Can’t see the ground
Nothing can go my way
Nothing can go my way today
Nothing can go my way
But I’m gonna try today


After sharing such a dark poem yesterday, I wanted something a little more cheerful... or at least one with hope, to share with you today.  It is normal for you to have good days and bad days and then those in between days. But sometimes when you have a run of bad days, it can take it's toll. Especially when you are struggling with depression or anxiety. But just like this poem shows us, we can keep pushing through and living. Look at the line in the first paragraph: Except I'm gonna live. Life is powerful. Chose it.

Wednesday, 27 April 2016

Day 5 POEM: This Is Where

This Is Where
Janel J. Tutak, October 24, 2004

This is where he used to sit
And he’d have so much fun with it
For this is where he used to swing
It used to be his favourite thing
He used to love to swing so high
He’d laugh out loud as he’d fly
Simple pleasure created a laughing fit
This is where he used to sit

This is where he used to play
And he’d have fun all through the day
For this is where his bells he’d ring
It used to be his favourite thing
He used to love their musical melody
He’d was as happy as happy could be
Simple pleasure brought a happy day
This is where he used to play

This is where he used to hum
And perform for dad and mum
For this is where he used to sing
It used to be his favourite thing
He used to love to sing a song
He could do it all day long
Simple pleasures loved by some
This is where he used to hum

This is where he went to school
And he was popular and oh so cool
He was crowned the prom king
It used to be his favourite thing
He had the pictures, kept the crown
It cheered him up when he was down
Simple pleasures of his high school rule
This is where he went school

This is where he slammed his bedroom door
And he broke down, couldn’t take anymore
He was planning what the future brings
But it was his parent’s favourite things
He’d wanted to write, not play football
But that wasn’t what his dad had in mind at all
Simple pleasures weren’t allowed anymore
This is where he slammed his bedroom door

This is where he used to sleep
And when no one was there, he’d weep
He was doing what made his heart sting
Forbidden to do his favourite thing
But he doesn’t want to disappoint mum and dad
Too afraid to tell them why he’s sad
Simple problems seemed to pile in too deep
This is were he brought on his permanent sleep


This poem is fiction but unfortunately the emotions within it, the subject matter, is not. Suicide is such a tragic, tragic reality. I remember reading a poem (or maybe a short story?) when I was in grade 5 that a triggered the first line, This is where he used to... Used to. What a sad thing to write. The thought that someone used to do something before they died is sad within itself but to think they used to and died to young. Used to and it was a cry for help. Used to and it is missed. So many things can be conjured up with those words, used to. I never forgot the way it made me feel then and it is a line I have used for inspiration many a times. I actually remember writing a poem in grade 5 using that line but sadly not every poem or story I have written has been recovered. While remembering that poem, I wrote a different one, one more dark. If you know or think you know anyone who is feeling so down, feeling like suicide could be an option I urge you to reach out to them. Hold on to them. Show them love so they can move on and those suicidal thoughts can be something they used to feel but now they feel better.  

Tuesday, 26 April 2016

Day 4 POEM: Nothing

Janel J. Tutak, November 13, 2004

I am not special
A forgotten toy that collects dust in a corner
I am nothing new
An old rumor that has lost its juice
I am unimportant
A file that keeps getting placed at the bottom of the pile
I am pointless
A TV show on a blank tape that has been taped over several times
I am insignificant
A penny that is all the change you receive so you tell them to keep it
I am forgotten
A promise you made many years ago while half asleep and intoxicated
I am worthless
A fake coupon that expired many years ago
I am me
A girl who is all these things and less

Another poem from that site. But I really like it. And though I can't remember who it was about or writing it, the emotion is not hard to imagine. I can read it and feel what I felt. The words are clear as are the emotion. That is one of my favourite things about writing poems. Sometimes feelings are tangled in your head, trapped in your body. But when you put it to words, it makes sense. Sometimes it helps to get it out, sometimes is just helps to have it become clear what your are feeling, even if it doesn't go away. Hurt. Confusion. Pain. They feed off of one another. Poetry is catching them in a spider's web and allowing you to see the beauty in it.

Monday, 25 April 2016

Day 3 POEM: He Doesn't Know

He Doesn't Know
Janel J. Tutak, circa October 2004

Her eyes are blue
Like a cloudy sky
They’re shedding tears
Over a guy

And he’s at home and doesn’t know
How much she loves him so

Her lips are red
Like a bloody heart
They quiver and shake
Cause she’s falling apart

And he’s at home and doesn’t know
That she’s feeling so low

Her skin is pale
Like a milky glass
It’s losing colour
And it’s going fast

And he’s at home and doesn’t know
How much she depends on him to grow

Her voice is weak
And so are her knees
She wants him to love her,
She’s begging him please

But his mind is confused and doesn’t know
Even though he used to love her so

This is a poem I found on one of my old sites I had as a teenager. It was specifically for my poetry. The date is was posted there was October 2004 but I can't be absolutely be sure it wasn't something I had already written and then posted. I would have been almost 18 years old at that time, if it was written then. I can't actually remember writing this one or whom it is about. But it's teenage heartbreak one of the best reasons to write a poem?

Sunday, 24 April 2016

Day 2 POEM: No Better Friend

No Better Friend
Janel J. Tutak, October 11, 2006

There’s no better friend than a sister
For she’s there when you need her for sure
She’s not going to talk behind your back
You know what you tell her is secure

There’s no better friend than a sister
With her your closet doubles in size
You can swap and trade wardrobes
Though asking first is always wise.

There’s no better friend than a sister
Instant messaging the things you think
She’s always on the same page as you
Because you share that special link

There’s no better friend than a sister
She understanding and empathetic too
Chances are she’s the one to talk to
Because she went through with you

There’s no better friend than a sister
A relationship that will never end
Through thick and thin, she’ll be there
Because she’s your very best friend

There’s no better friend than my sister
We’re the oddest pair might I say
But that’s just the way we are
And I wouldn’t have it any other way


This poem was written for my sister as a 16th birthday present. For those who have read Honey, I'm Home and seen the dedication, you know that my sister has always been one of my strongest supporters. And I am lucky enough to say this is still the case. She is still encouraging me to write and actually was the one who gave me the idea for the 30 day poetry posts. Right now she is writing her own blog. Everyday, 5 days a week she is sharing a part of a story she is currently writing just for fun. (Check it out here:!blog/vrbdd) The thought of sharing posts regularly with purpose made me think I wanted to do that as well. I was also hoping it would help me get back into writing more. So as I was going over my poems and trying to select which I would share next, this one seemed perfect. Yesterday, my daughter had her first dance recital, and my anxiety was in full force. I hadn't slept enough the night before, which never helps things in that respect. So we got there and I dropped her off with her class to await the rest of my family's arrival to pass out the tickets. The emotions mixed with anxiety was become too much and I could feel a panic attack coming on. When my mum and sister arrived I burst out into tears. While we were all seated, eagerly waiting for the performance, my sister grabbed my hands and started rubbing it to distract and soothe me. I can not tell you how many times she has been there to talk me down, help me or just to listen. There still is no better friend than my sister. I am so lucky to have her.

Saturday, 23 April 2016

Day 1 POEM: Another Fight

Another Fight
Janel J. Tutak, circa 1999

another fight with daddy we scream, he yells, i cry
another fight with daddy oh how i want to die
another fight with dad and i can not take much more
another fight with dad i slam my bedroom door
another fight with father we just don't get along
another fight with father he still thinks he isn't wrong
another fight with Tim his voice ringing in my ears
another fight with Tim ending in more tears
another fight with him and another day does by
another fight with him my eyes are never dry
another fight with that man and still i cannot see
another fight with that man why does he hate me


This poem was written one night while I lay in bed crying and upset. I needed something, anything to get out the feelings thundering around in my head. This one is probably one of my favourite poems with a bittersweet reason. After I scribbled it out on lined paper, I remember showing it to my mum. The one parent who always made me feel better, safe and loved. As a parent now, I can't imagine how she must have felt to see such emotion from her child and know there was nothing she could do to help. Although, always in my corner, she did try to help. She showed the poem to my (now estranged) father. This was before he has truly subsided to the dark side and there was a glimmer of human still residing in his heart. The poem spoke to him and for an instant he wanted to be better in the way you do, without actually wanting to do something about it. So he folded it up and put it in his wallet. I probably had another copy of it, or maybe not. Who knows. All I know is later on, years later, when they had separated and he was trying to play with my emotions, trying to continue the charade of wanting to be better and be a real father, he told me about it. Pulled out the wallet and showed me the folded copy. I borrowed it to jot it down. At the time thinking, well, exactly what he wanted me to think, that it meant he still cared for me. And perhaps it was a sign of the good that did/could be a part of him. Perhaps it was him caring in the only way he was capable of caring. Perhaps it was just an elaborate ploy. Who knows. Obviously, the dark won over and that is why he is no longer in my life. But I still have this poetic reminder that words can be powerful. We must never stop sharing them, you never know who they will speak to.

National Poetry Month Pledge

Sometimes when you are a parent days blend in together, weeks and months are part of a fog of diaper changes, meals, bedtime stories, tantrums, forts and songs. Suddenly I look at my calender and I see it is no longer March but near the end of April. April... besides my mum's birthday, there is something else significant with that month, if I only could remember.... Ah yes.
National Poetry Month.
My love for writing poetry was the fuel that fed my love for writing when I was younger. If only I had kept it up a little more, although, perhaps adolescent angst is truly some of the best muses for poetry. Ah well.
In honour of what could have been one poem posted everyday for a month, I will still give you, my reader, a little throwback from my treasury. For 30 days, I will post one of my poems for your reading pleasure.

Sunday, 17 April 2016

Life Would Be A Dream

Nap time! In other words free time. Although usually I myself partake in the napping. I am actually laying in our king size bed with my daughter beside me. Listening to her breathing on repeat. Remembering the sound and the bliss. Hard to believe Summer is almost upon is and after that she starts school. Junior Kindergarten. I swallow the heartburn threatening to erupt over this thought. My little baby only not so little. "Just call me big girl" she loves to remind me. She's not my baby anymore. I try to explain she will always be but she's too independent and head strong to listen. May God have mercy on her teachers. Teachers. Dear God, how has time passed so quickly that she will be going to school. And all day, five days a week? It seems crazy. She is still little. I will miss having her around all day. I know it will be good for her. She will have a blast.
I am looking forward to the time it will give my son and I to spend time, just the two of us. Soon she will out grow the napping with mummy and he will snuggle in. Too big for the crib. To quote Roberta "No matter what I do they just keep getting bigger!" (10 points if you get that reference).
And as this time is passing, I haven't written. Henry will be two soon. And I last wrote pregnant. Horrible. I need to do it more. Take the time. I will. I must.

Saturday, 16 April 2016

Back Again

Hello darkness my old friend
I've come to talk to you again...
Not that I'm calling you personally dark. I just mean, Damn it's been a long time. And I know that's all on me (it is my blog after all). Just sometimes life gets so lifey and suddenly so much time has passed. But I have been flirting with the idea of writing again. It just has to be done. I miss it. And I was farting around on pinterest  (as you do) when I stumbled upon this quote by Jodi Picoult. And it spoke to me. So here I am.
I mean truth be told, there isn't much to write at the moment. My oldest is jumping up and down on my bed, crying because she needs yet another snack before bed. The procrastination queen has given birth to the procrastination princess haha. So my mind is doing that dog hearing a high pitched voice sound and I can't really even think. But in the words of the Terminator, "I'll be back."